


every breath you take, every move you make (i'll be watching you)

by muslimsmoak



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Also it's the NSA Agent that watches you, Angst, Bratva AU, College AU, F/M, FBI Agent Soulmate AU, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Get your facts straight, I'll add more tags and characters as I go along, the AU that no one asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-03-21 03:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13732650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muslimsmoak/pseuds/muslimsmoak
Summary: FBI Agent John Diggle and NSA Analyst Felicity Smoak have been working on a months-long operation to make a move against the Bratva until it all goes wrong. Oliver Queen is driving back from a party one night when he picks up a Russian mobster off the side of a bridge fresh out of a car accident. That night Oliver is offered a chance to join the ranks of the Bratva, but Felicity and John grab him to go undercover for him. Their jobs are on the line, trusting a billionaire frat boy to take down the  Solntsevskaya Bratva, but it’s the only chance they’ve got. Oliver's journey is a long one, but he's got these two on his side.





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, so this is my first multi-chapter fic. It's based off a tumblr text post about those FBI Agent memes you've been seeing around. I couldn't get this idea out of my head so here we are. I hope to have a regular posting schedule but you never know with life. And I have no idea how long this will be as of right now, but as soon as I know, you'll know. So anyways, here you go and enjoy. Also, I know nothing about the FBI/NSA, tech stuff and all that. My knowledge is limited to what I could research and my limited knowledge of spy movies and tv shows, so how about a little suspension of disbelief here, huh? Also, I don't speak Russian so everything in Italics is technically spoken in Russian, okay now enjoy.

Agent Diggle walked into the Boston Field Office with two coffees in hand, a black coffee for himself, and a latte with two shots of caramel for his partner. He was on his way to Conference Room D1 when he spotted a petite woman with short brown hair. She walked towards him and placed the file she was holding to his chest and stopped him.

 

“Johnny, you ready for today?” She asked.

 

He nodded his head, “We’ve got everything planned out to the smallest detail. We’re going over it again in 10 minutes. We got this, sweetie.” He reassured her.

 

She smiled, “You only call me sweetie when you want something.”

 

John smiled back, “Well, right now, what I want is a kiss from my wife before I start my day.” He said as he leaned his head down to hers and she met him in the middle as they kissed each other “good morning”.

 

They pulled back but their foreheads were still touching each other. “Johnny,” She whispered, “I know how much this means to you.” She paused, “Go get ‘em.”

 

He took in her words and kissed her once more, “See you tonight. Tell my baby girl ‘I miss her.’” He leaned his head back and started walking away.

 

“Tell her yourself,” he heard Lyla respond back. He smiled and kept walking in the direction of the conference room.  

 

Today was a big day for him and his partner. Six months ago,  John Diggle was assigned by the Bureau Director Waller to diminish the influence of the Solntsevskaya Bratva, the Russian Mob in the States. He was a good choice, a military man, made sergeant, two tours in Afghanistan followed by an honorable discharge and the joined the Bureau once he made it Stateside. He was an excellent agent, and it helped having an in with the Bureau with his wife Lyla Michaels as Special Agent turned Director of Counterterrorism. He had been allowed to choose a partner for the op, and he chose NSA Computer Defense Network Analyst, Felicity Smoak, making it an inter-government agency team up.

 

Felicity Megan Smoak was recruited by the NSA part-time while she was still at MIT as a software engineer, creating, implementing, and maintaining advanced software systems for the counterintelligence community. After graduating with honors at the bright young age of 19, the NSA took her full-time as a Computer Network Defense Analyst, collecting and analyzing information to identify, analyze, and report possible future events or attacks. A lot of her findings at the NSA were often reported back to the FBI, mainly their counter-terrorism department, so she was in constant communication with Director Michaels, even having formed a friendship.

 

Through Lyla, Felicity met her husband John and they quickly became close, much like brother and sister. Felicity was very close with both Lyla and John, the two of them being there for her, from her days as a college student and software engineer to now as an analyst. And when Lyla was pregnant and had given birth to her and John’s daughter, Sara, Felicity was made godmother to the little bundle of joy. So when her superiors at the NSA had informed her that John had requested her to work an operation together, she accepted with no hesitations.

 

Now, here she was, sitting in Conference Room D1, on her tablet, going over the plans they had been working on for months now. Everything had to be right, every small little detail, down to the last second or they would be screwed. The door opened and in walked John with a coffee for her. He walked up and sat down next to her, placing her coffee to the right of her.

 

She grabs the coffee and takes a sip while her eyes are still focused on her tablet, she makes a satisfied noise, “Ohh, John Diggle. You are the savior of souls and the bringer of Java. Thank you” she exclaims.

 

John chuckles, “You’re welcome, Felicity. You ready?”

 

She takes another sip of coffee and then taps an app on her tablet. A projection of her tablet appears on the wall of the conference room. She clears her throat, “In two days, Anatoly Knyazev and Yuri Pavlovsky, two Brigadiers in the Bratva will be flying in from Russia and landing at Hanscom Field, a private airport. We’ve intercepted transmissions of the limousine service they’ll be using and planted Agent Davis as the driver. We’ve pre-planned a route and the exact time it’ll take. At approximately 23:54, Agent Davis will drive the two on Concord River Bridge and stage a crash. From there, we take the men in.

 

John nods his head, “Sounds pretty good to me. All right, you may go, Agent Felicity. And I’ll see tonight, Lyla’s making lasagna.” John said.

 

Felicity smiled, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She replied.  She took her coffee and her tablet in her hands and got out of her chair and left the conference room.

 

John sat back in his chair and took a deep breath. After so long, he was finally close to closure. He was ready to take down the Bratva. And nothing could go wrong.

 

\----------

 

The loud blaring of his alarm coupled with his next-door neighbor banging on the walls woke Oliver from his deep slumber. His disheveled dirty blond locks masked his face, he raised his hand to move his hair and clear his vision, and proceeded to turn the alarm on his phone. He reluctantly sat up out of bed and assessed his phone for the time. His class was in one hour and he was currently sporting a nasty hangover from last night.

 

He looked around his room, trying to pick up the pieces of last night’s events. He was dressed in nothing but his boxer briefs, his room was in its usual mess, clothes were strewn all over the floor and red solo cups overfilling his trash can. Nothing in his room told him he housed a guest last night, a female guest. He and his frat brothers were having a “bros’ night” and it had definitely gotten out of hand, Oliver remembering just how much he drank last night.

 

He groaned, his migraine was coming in strong and he raised his left hand to his temple. He needed to find his aspirin. He opened his eyes and saw the words “FBI Agent” scrawled across his inner arm in black Sharpie.

 

“What the fuck?” He said in confusion. Last night was slowly coming back to him, one of the brothers, Kyle, had gone on and one in a drunken tirade about conspiracy theories and the government watching everyone and had tasked himself with dragging Oliver back to his room when the festivities were done, but not without writing on his arm, some sort of stupid joke. The handwriting was large and sloppy and covered up most of Oliver’s inner arm. He’d have to cover it up with a long sleeve Henley today.

 

“WHAT THE FUCK, KYLE!!?!?” He shouted in the confines of his room. He glanced at his phone again, he had about an hour to get himself together, shower, and make it to class, hopefully on time. He groaned again, today was gonna be a long day.

 

\----------

 

Oliver was only seven minutes late to class this time, a record for him if he was keeping track. Harvard was his third college in three years and his parents, Robert and Moira Queen were on his case about staying on track and actually focusing on his business degree. They expected him to fall in line, be the son they wanted and eventually take over the family company, Queen Consolidated. But he didn’t want to be CEO, he didn’t know what he wanted but this was the path he was expected to take, so here he was, trying to make it work. While his wild ways had died down from prior arrests and peeing on cop cars, Oliver still took to the drinking and the party as a means to cope with the constant pressures on his shoulders. He was walking around the hallway mid-thought when someone stopped him, pushing a flyer to his chest.

 

He took the flyer in his hands and read its contents as the guy spoke, “Yo, there’s gonna a party tonight at the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery! It’s gonna be amazing! Free booze, bro!”

 

Oliver nodded and walked away from the guy. He folded the flyer and placed it in his backpack. He could go to the party, or he could stay in his room and work on that term paper that was just assigned to him worth 30% of his final grade. He’ll figure it out later.

 

\----------

 

He had just made it back to his room when his phone rang, it was his father. Sighing, Oliver reluctantly picked up the phone.

 

“Hi, dad.” He answered.

 

“Oliver, how’s Harvard? Not getting into too much trouble, are you now?

 

“No, I-”

 

“Your mother and I were disappointed in you with how things turned out at Yale and Dartmouth. You need to get serious, Oliver. The future CEO can’t be going around getting plastered all night and peeing on cop cars.”

 

Oliver groaned in frustration, “It was one time!!!!” He shouted into his phone. He took a deep breath.

 

“Son, I’m just trying to help you.”

 

“Good-bye, dad.” He threw his phone to the ground and flopped onto his bed, face first. He was just so tired of it all. He needed to get it out of his head. And he knew just the thing to help distract him, thinking back on the flyer nestled in his backpack.

 

\----------

 

Felicity was inside a black unmarked van, a standard vehicle for government agencies. She had 3 screens open in the back of the van, multiple camera feeds on a loop, constantly switching back and forth. She was monitoring the feed of Hanscom Airfield, waiting for the arrival of Knyazev and Pavlovsky when John opened up the back of the van and stepped in with a bag marked Big Belly Burger. She turned to face John and smiled wide when she saw the paper bag.

 

“John Diggle, you really are my savior. Does Lyla know what a lucky woman she is?” She jokingly asked as she reached her arm out to grab the bag.

John chuckled and handed it to her.“It’s really me that’s lucky. And knowing you, I figured you could use some grub.” He grabbed a chair and sat next to her, glancing at the monitors before them. “Status update?” he asked.

 

Felicity was already three bites into her burger and wiped her fingers on a napkin before speaking, “Knyazev and Pavlovsky touch down at approximately 23:54, it’ll take about 12 minutes for them to grab their bags and board their limo. Agent Davis has been planted as their limo driver and is on comms right now. She points to a small device on her left, signaling for John to attach it. She continues, “They’re headed toward the Fairmont Hotel on 56th and Main. I’ve currently put in an algorithm to direct traffic to our advantage. The route will take them here,” she points to a map on one of the monitors with a bright red dot in the center-left. “Where Alex will then stage a car crash, a minor incident, leaving them vulnerable and ready to be apprehended by Davis and you. We’re as ready as we can be, John.”

 

He’s staring at the monitor when he nods his head and glances back at her. “I’ll get into position.” He says as he exits the van, leaving Felicity to her burger. After she finished eating, she thought about John and how much this mission meant to him. For John, this wasn’t just a long-planned mission that would make the Bureau look good. For John, it was personal. Now, more determined, her hands flung to the keyboard in front of her as she double and triple-checked everything. This op could not go wrong and she would damn well do her best to ensure that….for John.

 

\----------

The plane had just landed as Felicity saw on her monitors. She turned her earpiece on, “Agent Davis, you ready?”

 

Agent Davis answered back, “Ready, Agent Smoak. The targets should be entering the vehicle any minute now. Standby.”

 

“Agent Diggle, you in position?” She asked.

 

“In position, Agent Smoak. Ready.” John replied.

 

Minutes passed as the targets entered the car. The targets entered the car and sat beside each other and made eye contact with their driver, Alex.

 

Alex tipped his head up in acknowledgment and greeted them, “Good evening, gentlemen.” They didn’t respond back. Alex put the car in drive and proceeded according to the plan. The plan was to veer the limo onto the railings of the bridge, inflict just enough damage to the vehicle that the men would have minimal injuries and would be vulnerable enough for John who was situated just around the corner of the bridge to come in and apprehend the two men.

 

This was it, months in the making, finally coming to fruition.

 

\----------

 

Although it was creepy to have a party in a spooky cemetery, the fraternity that was responsible for this party made it bearable and slightly entertaining for Oliver. He had been here 40 minutes already and had only taken a sip of the beer he was currently nursing. While he was at the party, his mind was wandering around, the thoughts in his head consuming, his father’s words echoing his head. Was this really what he wanted to do with his life, a drink in his hand and a different girl on his arm every night? But he didn’t wanna be CEO of QC either, that life just wasn’t for him. Truth be told, he had no idea what he wanted to do with his life and he had no idea where to start. Besides, it was so easy to stay in this role, the wild billionaire playboy, than to change who he was. Who would even think he was capable of such change? He wasn’t even sure of it himself.

 

Having felt that he was done with his little self-reflection time, Oliver decided it was time to leave the party. None of it felt appealing to him tonight. So he walked out of the cemetery and headed towards his car, a silver Maserati GranTurismo convertible and headed out on the road.  The night was still early and he didn’t know what his new evening plans would consist of. After ten minutes on the road, he was approaching the Concord River Bridge when he saw…. A middle-aged man with a relatively thick beard was limping towards his car from the bridge.

 

Oliver started slowing down the car and rolled down his window. He saw a black limousine tethering off the bridge, about ready to give way and fall straight into the river.He shouted, “Hey, you!!!!! Sir!!!! Do you need help, man?!!!!” The man started limping towards the passenger side of the car. Oliver rolled down that window too.

 

“ _Are you in the brotherhood?”_ The man asked in what Oliver presumed was Russian. Oliver didn’t respond. “Boy, are you with Bratva?”

 

Oliver was confused, “What’s the Bratva? Are you okay? Do you need to go the hospital?”

 

He shook his head, “No. Don’t need hospital. Need ride.” He answered.

 

“I can give you a ride. Is it just you? Anyone else?” He asked as he looked out the window to see if there were others injured.

 

“No, just me. I get in?” He asked.

 

“Sure,” replied Oliver. He unlocked the passenger side and let the man in. He started driving away from the bridge. “So where can I take you? Any family in the area? The police station?”

 

“You can take me to a bar. I need a drink. Vodka.” The man replied.

 

“A bar? You sure?” Oliver asked.

 

“I'm sure.” The man replied.

 

“So who are you?” Oliver inquired.

 

The man chuckled, “Oh, forgive me, my manners. Anatoly Knyazev. Mobster.” He said as he smiled.

 

Oliver chucked along with him, “Oliver Queen…..Wait, mobster?? As in the mob? Like _The Godfather_ and shit?

 

“You think Italians. They are nicer. Russians, not so much.” Anatoly joked.

 

Oliver was very nervous all of a sudden, “You’re not gonna, like kill me, are you?” he asked.

 

“No, you save life. I won’t kill you.” He answered.  “But if I don’t get drink soon, then maybe. We’ll see.” Anatoly joked.

 

That didn’t calm Oliver’s nerves at all. Who was this dude? And a Russian mobster really? How did he end up here? This night was not at all how he expected it to go. He hoped that he could just keep himself alive by the end of the night and live to see another day.

 

\----------

 

John ran back to the van just around the corner. He rushed in and shouted, “FELICITY, what the fuck happened out there?” Months, months of preparation for this chance and it was all blown to shot. John was furious.

 

Felicity was frantically typing away on her keyboard. “I have no idea, John. We lost all communications and I heard gunshots. Is Alex okay?” She replied.

 

“Felicity, there were gunshots before the comms went out. And the limo fell into the river.” John said.

 

Felicity sat there in silence. That meant Agent Davis had probably been found out and was shot. “Oh,” she sighed.

 

“Felicity, who was in that Maserati? Did you call for backup?” John asked as he situated himself in the driver’s seat.

 

“I have no idea, John. This area was supposed to be empty, no one should have been driving around here at this time of night,” she said.

 

She turned her head to one of the monitors and immediately perked up. “But I can find him. Or her, it could be a she,” she said as she squinted towards a monitor depicting a figure with neck length hair obscuring their profile. She typed away and opened up traffic cam feeds.

 

“It looks like they’re headed towards the turnpike. We can follow and still catch him, John.” She said.

 

Instead of answering, John put the car in drive and headed out on the road. Felicity got the message and went back to her monitors, occasionally giving John directions along the way. John’s mind was somewhere else tonight, a million thoughts running through his head, replaying tonight’s events.

 

Agent Davis had been shot and the comms had gone out mysteriously. The limo was only supposed to face minimal damage but was now at the bottom of the Concord River. And this mystery driver. Who was he? How was he connected to Anatoly? Where did he fit into all of this? John was determined to find out.


	2. ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver takes Anatoly to the bar. They share a few drinks and Oliver unloads on him, Anatoly leaves him for the night with an offer for him. Oliver, uncertain on his decision tries to go back to his regular life, the offer still at the back of his mind. Soon enough, he finds himself kidnapped at the hands of an FBI agent and an NSA agent with another offer. Wow, he’s in high demand these days for a rich kid with no transferable skills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello. here's chapter two. things are gonna start picking up and soon enough i'll get to write some stuff i've been looking forward since the conception of this fic. (if you search my tumblr tags, you know what's coming lol.) anyway's here's chapter two. i hope you enjoy.

To say Oliver was scared out of his mind was an understatement. He was downright terrified to be exact. He picked up a Russian mobster and invited him into his car. A fucking Russian mobster!!! What the hell was wrong with him?!!! He barely had a sip of beer at the party, so he couldn’t blame the alcohol. He probably wouldn’t have gotten into the car if he was inebriated. Not after what happened the last time. So he definitely wasn’t drunk and there wasn’t something placed in his drink, so he wasn’t hallucinating right now. So that meant all of this was real.

 

There actually was a Russian mobster in his car. He actually did pick him up off the side of the road. Man, was he insane? Maybe, it seems very likely right now seeing how he’s taking Anatoly to a bar like he asked instead of taking him to the police or something. This man was a criminal and here he was, sitting in his Maserati, waiting for a good drink. This was his life. How did he get here? He had no idea. Right now his only priority was keeping himself alive and to make it through the night. He didn’t know what mobsters were like. Sure he had seen those classic movies like _The Godfather_ , _Scarface_ , and _Brother_  but those were fictional. This was real life and there was a very real mobster in his passenger seat who may or may not have joked about killing him. Man, he could go for a drink right now too.

 

After he had picked up Anatoly, he used a red light to check his phone and find a bar nearby. The GPS showed one not too far from here. A few minutes later, here they were at this hole-in-the-wall dive bar called the _Tiny Tap_. He turned into the lot and parked his car.

 

“Okay, here you are. Nearest bar.” He said, a little nervous. He had done what he asked. Anatoly wouldn’t kill him now, would he?

 

“Thank you, Oliver.” He said. He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned towards the door and turned back to look at him. “You coming?” He asked.

 

“No offense but you look like you could use drink too.” He added.

 

It was just a drink. Nothing could go wrong, right. “Yeah, sure,” Oliver answered. Oliver took the key out of the ignition and got out of the car as Anatoly did.

 

They walked into the dim-lit bar and took notice of their surroundings. It was pretty much your average dive bar, leather booths along the back wall, a few customers, no doubt regulars still present at this late hour, and the bartender with a 5 o’clock shadow tending to a customer. Anatoly headed toward the bar grabbing a seat near its end and Oliver followed behind him, seating himself right next to him.

 

Anatoly flagged down the bartender and raised two fingers up, “Vodka, please.” The bartender nodded his head in response.

 

He used “please.” At least the scary Russian mobster had manners. That didn’t deter Oliver’s thoughts but he was desperate for a drink right now, so he didn’t want to dwell on the possibility that this could be his last night ever. The bartender arrived with their shots and Oliver gulped his down immediately.

 

Anatoly took his shot and then turned and looked at Oliver. “Rough night for you, huh? Is almost like you were in accident or something?” Anatoly asked. “No, wait, that was me,” he added in a deadpan tone.

 

He placed his hand on Oliver’s back, “Come now, tell me your troubles, Oliver. You helped me tonight, maybe I help you.”

 

“It’s nothing,” Oliver replied sinking his head and taking another shot.

 

“I see look on your face. Is not nothing. Tell me, who is Oliver Queen?” He answered back, taking his arm off Oliver and putting the ball in his court now.

 

Oliver sighed, his fingers playing with the rim of his shot glass, “Oliver Queen is a fuck up.”

 

“I failed out of two colleges, am on track at failing out of this one, my father wants me to take over as CEO but that’s not what I want for myself. I don’t even know what I want for myself. I have no skills or anything, really.” he added.

 

He took the shot and gulped it down. He sighed, “Like I said, a fuck up.”

 

“Okay, wow. That is a lot.” Anatoly said.

 

“I’m just tired of everyone pushing their expectations on me. As soon as everyone learns my name, they’ve already made up their mind of me. It’s easier to fall into the role of what they think of me than to actually change their minds. I’ve got nothing going for me.” Oliver said.

 

“You’re young, you how old, 20?” Anatoly asked.

 

“I’m 21,” Oliver replied.

 

“See, you have time, no worry,” Anatoly added.

 

“But I’m expected to take over my father’s company as soon as I graduate...which is in one year.” He added.

 

Anatoly was about to speak when all of a sudden _Toxic_ by Britney Spears went off and Oliver zoned in on Anatoly, his suit buzzing with her voice. Oliver looked at Anatoly in surprise and confusion, silently saying “ _Really?”_

 

Anatoly grabbed the phone out of his breast pocket, “What? Is good song,” he remarked.

 

“Excuse me while I take this.” He added as he went off towards the side of the bar, Oliver’s eyes followed him until he reached the hallway where the questionably clean restrooms were. He turned back to the bar and started circling the rim of his shot glass with his fingers again.

 

His night just kept getting weirder and weirder, from picking up a mobster in his car, to having drinks and unloading on said mobster, and then finding out said mobster is a Britney fan. Maybe now was a good time to lay off the drinks. His mind kept wandering to his life, the future he was expected to have, the roles he would have to play and saddened at the thought of it all.

 

If he wasn’t Oliver Queen, or even a Queen, if he was Oliver, just Oliver, things would be different. He could be free, free from the media circus, free from the legacy, and free to be. He could actually take the time to figure out who he really was, who he could be.

 

Anatoly had finished up his phone call and walked back to the bar, “Sorry about interruption, but I have good news, good news for you too.”

 

Oliver nodded at Anatoly, signaling for him to go on.

 

Anatoly raised his hand and slid it down to gesture at himself, “You are now looking at new Pakhan of the Bratva. I miss ceremony because of accident but it is official.”

 

“Congratulations?” Oliver said. Oliver had no idea what a _pakhan_ was but he wasn’t about to say anything. But judging by Anatoly’s mood, it was good for him. But was it good for Oliver?

 

Anatoly motioned to the bartender again, “Another round, my good man.” He shouted. “This is good, Oliver. This is very good.” Anatoly giggled.

 

“Wait, Anatoly. How is this good news for me?”Oliver inquired.

 

Anatoly was already downing another shot when Oliver pulled him out of his celebration. “Oh right, sorry. I forgot. It’s the excitement, you know?” he said.

 

“Good news is, I have job for you,” Anatoly said.

 

“A job….for me?” Oliver said.

 

“Yes, with Bratva,” Anatoly added.

 

“A job with the Bratva? Like working for the Bratva?” Oliver asked.

 

“Yes. There is position open, _Kapitan_ , captain. Is my previous role. There is now opening. Two openings actually, my position and Yuri.” Anatoly remarked.

 

“Who’s Yuri?” Oliver said confused.

 

“Other captain. He did not survive accident.” Anatoly said.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah, oh. But anyways, position is open, and you my friend, would be good fit for Bratva.”

 

“Anatoly, I’m not a ruthless cunning mobster.”

 

Anatoly chuckled, “Thank you for compliment, but that is not all that we are. But seriously, you’re a good boy, you could handle my American affairs for me while I take over in Russia.”

 

“But I don’t wanna kill people.”

 

“That’s why you have your men. Enforcers.  You won’t have to do killing. Maybe, maybe not. Depends how you survive initiation.

 

“Initiation?!” Oliver shouted.

 

“Think of it like internship, you know? You make it through initiation, then you get job, right?” Anatoly said.

 

“Anatoly, I don’t know. This seems a little out there, you know? Weird? Scary? Insane, maybe?”

 

“At least think on it, my friend. I leave card, you let me know.” Anatoly said as he reached into his pocket, took out a business card and slid it towards him. He started walking out but turned back and looked at Oliver.

 

“You never know, Oliver. This could be chance you have been talking about.” Anatoly added. Oliver was left to himself, Anatoly’s words on his mind.

 

\----------

 

Felicity and John had parked the van not too far from the bar. Had it not been a busy night, John could’ve charged right in and apprehended Anatoly. But there were too many civilians that could be caught in the crossfire to take a risk. And they still had no idea who this mystery blond was. Dirty blond, actually.

 

A quick run through with facial recognition software and checking the DMV database revealed their mystery blond to be an Oliver Jonas Queen, born and raised in Star City, son of Robert and Moira Queen of Queen Consolidated. The search results left quite an unpleasant impression with the two agents, a scandalous history of peeing on cop cars, drunken disorderly conduct, failing out of colleges, and constantly appearing in the tabloids. Oliver’s huge media presence was another reason not to engage their target. The last thing anyone needed was the media putting on blast that Oliver Queen, billionaire playboy, and future CEO was in the crosshairs of a shooting. The Bureau would not be pleased.

 

That being said, they still had no idea what Oliver Queen’s connection was to the Bratva and how he knew about tonight if he knew anything. Felicity had managed to hack into the camera feeds from inside the bar and luckily, they had audio as well. So John and Felicity sat in the back of the van, listening in on Oliver and Anatoly’s encounter. It was quite an enlightening conversation.

 

“John, this guy is nobody. I mean he’s not nobody, he’s obviously somebody. And quite important and popular too.” Felicity said.

 

“Felicity,” John said, centering Felicity back to the topic at hand.

 

“Thank you, what I mean is, is that he’s nobody to the Bratva. You heard him. He’s just some random kid who was driving back from a party and thought he was being a good Samaritan and picked up a stranger off the side of the road. He has no connection to the Bratva whatsoever. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or right place, right time in Anatoly’s case.” Felicity added.

 

“I mean who offers a random stranger a chance to join the Bratva? That’s insane.” Felicity admonished. “If I were him, I wouldn’t take that offer. You’d have to be equally insane to take that offer.”

 

John shook his head. Felicity was right, anyone who took that offer would not survive the Bratva, especially not someone like Oliver Queen. The boy has no idea what would be in store for him. It was suicide. And the chances of him making it through were slim. But….. a thought popped into John’s head. Maybe this had been the chance he had been waiting for all along.

 

“John, I know that face. What are you thinking?” Felicity asked.

 

“What if Queen did take his offer?” John inquired.

 

“He wouldn’t make it. John, you’ve been trying to take down the Bratva for years. You know what their initiations are like. He won’t survive.” Felicity remarked.

 

“But what if he had help?” John said.

 

“What do you mean?” Felicity asked.

 

“What if we took Queen in and helped him make his way within the Bratva and he becomes our insider and informant?” John revealed.

 

“John Diggle, you have officially lost your mind. The Bureau would never approve of something like this.” Felicity admonished.

 

“The Bureau won’t care if we show them results,” John said.

 

“And you think Oliver Queen can give you results?” Felicity asked gesturing to the monitors playing a TMZ video of the guy in question.

 

“I think that with our help, my training and your surveillance, he just might have a shot,” John said.

 

Silence passed. This was John’s only chance right now. Their mission that months in the making fell through the cracks and this billionaire could be the opportunity they have been looking for. Felicity knew how important this was for John and how personal it was too.

 

Felicity sighed, “Okay, let’s do this. How are we bringing him in? There’s no way the Bratva aren’t monitoring him right now after Anatoly left him. We can’t just barge into a frat house flashing our badges.”

 

“I have an idea, but you’re not gonna like it,” John said.

 

Felicity looked at John. “You’re gonna need a disguise. Do you still have your clothes from MIT? The early years?”

 

Felicity groaned, catching up to John’s implications, “You owe me, John Diggle. You owe me.”

 

John chuckled at her statement. He was really gonna owe Felicity for what he was going to make her do. But it would be worth it if it led to them taking down the Bratva. Next, he just had to let the Bureau know about his plan before they went further. But first, they needed to meet this Oliver Queen.

 

\-----------

 

A few days had passed since Anatoly left Oliver with nothing but a business card and an offer to join the Brotherhood. He would be lying if he said he didn’t think about it at times. But the thought of him as a Bratva Captain? Completely insane. He went back to the beer in his hand and took a sip. The fraternity was holding a house party to kick off the weekend and Oliver joined in on the festivities. He stood leaning on the wall, holding his drink and surveying the crowd in the living room.

 

Nothing about tonight was holding his interest. He contemplated calling it a night and just kicking back in his room. He took one last look around the room and was met with a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at him. A girl with dark black hair with purple streaks had caught his attention. She was dressed in a black tank and leather jacket with dark green cargo pants. Her lips with lined with dark purple and he could see the shine on them even in this dimly lit frat house. She was intriguing, to say the least, and she was walking right towards him.

 

Oliver’s palms started sweating. Never had a girl made him feel this way before. What would she even want to do with him, Oliver Queen? She was hot, and while Oliver was incredibly attractive as well, he was not in the same league as this hot goth chick.  He wiped his palms on his jeans and stood up straight. His throat felt dry all of a sudden, he took a swig of his beer. If he was gonna do this, he probably needed some liquid courage.

 

“So, you come here often?” The girl asked, batting her long dark lashes at him.

 

Oliver replied, “I live here.” He pointed to the stairs, “Second floor.” He added smiling wickedly at the girl.

 

She returned his smile. “Good, that means we won’t have to travel far.” She licked her lips.

 

_Fuck, she was hot,_ Oliver thought. He took another swig of his beer and held his arm out.

 

“After you,” he said. Felicity walked ahead of him, going up the stairs. Oliver was following behind, catching glimpses of her ass as she headed up.

 

“On your left,” he said, guiding her to his room.

 

She took a left and stopped right at his door. “After you,” repeating his words with a smile.

 

Oliver opened his door and walked in surveying his room. If he was gonna entertain, it should at least be a little cleaner. He turned back after a quick survey of his room and was met with a fist to his face.

 

“What the fuck?! Ow” Oliver shouted in pain as he fell to the floor. He was losing consciousness as he heard the girl’s voice as well as that of another man.

 

“Felicity, did you at least keep your wrists straight?” The man asked.

 

“Yeah, I think I did. You at least taught me that.” She replied.

 

“Felicity,” he whispered as his eyes closed. _What a beautiful name._

 

\----------

 

Oliver groaned as he gained consciousness. His face hurt and events were just now catching up to him. His face was lying down on a table and he rose and sat up. He wasn’t in his room nor was he anywhere in the frat house. In fact, he had no idea where he was. He was sitting on a metal chair with a matching table before him in an enclosed room with no windows.

 

He remembered the party at the frat house and this goth girl that came up to him. He remembered that she approached him and he took her up to his room. And then she punched him, he thought. He touched his face and winced. She threw a good punch.

 

Soon after, a tall, dark,  built man in a suit walked into the room.

 

“Oliver Queen,” He said, “My name is John Diggle and I’m with the FBI.”

 

_Oh Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, lemme know how you felt about it.


	3. iii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver Queen meets FBI Agent John Diggle and is interrogated for his involvement with the Bratva. Scared out of his mind, Oliver thinks he’s about to be arrested for helping Anatoly, but really he’s being asked to go undercover for them. Oliver accepts his offer and the undercover work begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, sorry about the wait. School got the best of me and I couldn't find the time nor the motivation to write this chapter. But I finally got it together. Hope you enjoy.

John had been observing an unconscious Oliver in the next room through a two-way mirror when Felicity walked in. She had changed out of the black and cargo pants and her standard work clothes, a black pencil skirt, and a navy blue blouse. Her dark lipstick had been replaced with her usual pink. She stopped next to him and joined in his waiting.

 

“Is he awake yet?” She asked him. 

 

John shook his head, “No, not yet. You knocked him out real good” chuckling. 

 

“It was a good punch,” she admitted, cupping her wrist with her other hand. 

 

“You hurt yourself, Felicity?” he asked concerned.

 

“Yeah, no, I’m good. I did what you taught me. Just a little out of practice.” She answered.

 

“Might be time for a refresher course,” John added. 

 

“Only if it’s followed by Big Belly afterward,” she joked. 

 

John’s chuckle at Felicity’s joke when a sudden groan reverberated through the mirror. Oliver was just waking up and assessing where he was. 

 

“That’s my cue,” he said, picking up a file from the table at the end of the room and walking out the door.  He walked into the other room. 

 

“Oliver Queen,” he paused. “My name is John Diggle and I’m with the FBI.

 

John could see how scared Oliver was at that moment. Maybe he didn’t have any involvement with the Bratva. But he had to be sure. He was going to find out just who Oliver Queen is. 

 

He sat down in the chair opposite him and unbuttoned his jacket. “I just have a few questions to ask, if that’s alright with you.”

 

Oliver nods his head in response, still wincing in pain from Felicity’s punch. John may or may not have held in his laugh. He turns to where the mirror is located in the room and gestures with his hand, signaling Felicity. She enters the room with a cart carrying a large machine, a polygraph and wheels it to the table. She stands between the two men and smiles at John. 

 

“You’ve already met my partner, NSA Analyst Felicity Smoak,” John said.

 

“I don’t think I have….” Oliver stops as he’s met with a pair of bright blue eyes, familiar blue eyes. “Wait, you were the girl at the party! The goth girl! You punched me!”

  
  


Felicity laughs, “Yeah, that was me. Sorry about the punch, by the way. I’m a little rusty.” She grabs her wrist again. “Now that introductions are done, your arm please,” she said reaching her arm out to grab his. 

 

“For what?” Oliver asked.

 

“For the polygraph test,” John answered. “Just wanna make sure you’re telling us everything.”

 

“Okay,” Oliver sighed. He raised his sleeve up and held out his left arm to be attached to the polygraph’s many wires and attachments. 

 

Felicity grabbed his arm examined it before attaching wires to him. She noticed some smudged handwriting on it and attempted to decipher it. “FBI Agent?” She asked inquisitively moving his inner arm towards Oliver, showing the writing. 

 

“Oh. One of the brothers in my frat, he’s obsessed with those conspiracy theories and stuff. Our last party, we were drunk and he wrote on my arm talking about how the FBI is always watching you through your phone and laptop and shit.” Oliver explained. 

 

Felicity continued on setting up the polygraph and getting it ready. “All set, John.” She exclaimed. And started walking out of the room. She stopped when she grabbed the doorknob, “Also, it’s actually the NSA, not the FBI that watches you through your electronic devices.” She winked and left them. 

 

“Thank you, Ms. Smoak,” John said right before the door closed. “Now, let’s get to it, shall we?” he asked. 

 

He pushed his chair towards the machine and pushed a button. “Just answer the questions honestly and we’ll have no trouble. Oliver smiled back nervously in response.

 

“Now, I need to establish a baseline. Is your full name Oliver Jonas Queen?” He asked staring at the boy. 

 

He gulped and then answered, “Yes, my name is Oliver Jonas Queen.” John looked back at the instrument and nodded. They went back and forth.

 

“Are your parents Robert and Moira Queen?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are you 21 years old?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Do you attend Harvard University?” 

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are we done here yet? I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m innocent!” Oliver exclaimed. 

 

“Not quite yet, Mr. Queen” John stated. 

 

“Are you a member of the Solntsevskaya Bratva, the Russian mob?” He asked, looking back at him, scanning his eyes, his face, searching for a truth he so desperately wanted to know. 

 

“No, I am not a member of the Russian mob,” he answered. 

 

“Then what is your relation to Anatoly Knyazev?”

 

Oliver took a deep breath and began his story. “I was at a party that night, I thought I wasn’t gonna go but I was upset that day and needed to take a load off. It was over by Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. That night, I just wasn’t feeling it. I had barely had anything to drink so I got in my car and drove off. I got to the bridge and I saw a man limping towards me from an accident. I didn’t think much of it. I didn’t know he was in the mob until after I got in the car. I drove him to a bar, we shared a few drinks. He gave me an offer to join the brotherhood, said there was an opening if I survived and everything. He left me his card and that was the last I saw of him.”

 

John stared at him, absorbing his answer. 

 

“I haven’t called him,” Oliver added. 

 

John nodded in response. He sat back and took in Oliver’s answer. The polygraph showed no abnormalities but people could easily learn to cheat it. But people like a 21-year-old billionaire frat boy with hair that screams “carefree surfer dude.” Or maybe he’s not lying, maybe he really was in the wrong place at the wrong time. If this really was true, then John was going to be putting him in a whole lot of danger, asking this of him. But he was going to protect him, he had to. 

 

“Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Queen,” John said. 

 

“Am I free to go now?” Oliver asked. 

 

“Not just yet.” He said as Oliver groaned. 

 

“How would you like a job at the Federal Bureau of Investigation?” He inquired. 

 

Oliver was confused, “I’m sorry, what?”

 

“Well, you wouldn’t be officially working for the Bureau, but you would be going undercover as our insider, our informant of sorts if you will.”He added. 

 

“Undercover? Informant? For what?” he said. 

 

“As our insider to the Bratva, You see, Mr. Queen, I’ve been working on an operation. An operation to take down the Bratva. That night you found Anatoly Knyazev was supposed to be the night we bring him into the Bureau and dismantle the Bratva’s ties to this country. But you showed up, and while you may have sidetracked the operation, there’s still a chance to take down the Bratva. And that’s with you. Anatoly gave you an offer, we want you to take it.”

 

“What, are you crazy? You want me to join the Bratva?! I’ll die before I get anywhere! They’ll kill me!! I won’t survive them!!!!” Oliver exclaimed. 

 

“You will….with our help. We can help you. I can train you to fight, to stay alive. We’ll monitor your activity around them, digging up information, keeping an eye on you. We’ll be with you every step of the way.” John explained. 

 

“We?” Oliver asked. 

 

“Me and Ms. Smoak, my partner. She handles the technological aspects of our operation.” He answered. 

 

Oliver sat in silence, ruminating on Mr. Diggle’s offer. Moments passed between the two of them. 

 

“Mr. Queen, I assure you that we will do everything in our power to keep you alive. You have my word.” John added. 

 

He stood and moved to Oliver’s side. He removed the wires from his arm and set the polygraph back on the cart Felicity brought in. Oliver rolled the sleeves back on his arm and looked up at John.

 

“You’re free to go. Think about our offer. And if you decide to say yes, here’s my card.” John said as he reached out of his jacket pocket and handed Oliver a card. 

 

“We could really use you, Oliver,” John added as he left the room, leaving Oliver with nothing but a card and a chance to change his life. 

 

“So do you think he’ll take it?” Felicity asked John as he walked back into the room, watching Oliver be escorted out by two other agents. 

 

“Let’s hope he does,” John answered, stopping to stand next to her, joining her in her watching Oliver. 

 

Felicity turned to John, “Do you think you should’ve told him why this is so important to you? Why you’re bent on taking down the Bratva, what it means to you?” 

 

“I need to know if I could trust him first, Felicity,” John reprimanded. He wasn’t going to share his story with just anyone, especially if he thought Oliver was working for the Bratva. 

 

“And do you trust him?” She asked. 

 

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” John replied. 

 

\----------

 

Oliver was escorted back to the frat house by two other agents, he had them their names but neither responded. He got back into his room and flopped onto his bed. He winced in pain as he turned his head. His face still hurt from the punch that girl had given him. What was her name? Felicity. Felicity Smoak. NSA Analyst. And FBI Agent John Diggle. What a day it had been. Agent Diggle really thought Oliver was capable of infiltrating the Bratva for him. Just as Anatoly had thought he’d be a capable Bratva captain. These two men had more faith in Oliver than he had in himself. 

 

He flipped himself over to lay on his back and raised his arms up and under his head. It’d be a lot of work he’d have to put in. He’d have to train to fight, to survive, to live. But he wouldn’t be alone. He’d have people helping him, watching over him. Could he really do it?

 

He sat up on the bed and grabbed his phone and a card from out of his pocket. He dialed the number and waited for an answer. 

 

“Agent Diggle. This is Oliver Queen. I’m in.” He said. 

 

\----------

 

Felicity sat in the conference room, nursing her coffee. John had called her last night saying that Oliver had agreed to help them with their assignment. So here she was, waiting for John and Oliver to come in and discuss how they were doing this and what exactly everyone’s jobs entailed. 

 

She was taking another sip when the door opened and the boys walked in. John sat next to her and Oliver opposite John. Felicity gave a soft smile at the men and they returned it.

 

John unbuttoned his suit jacket and began to speak, “First of all, thank you, Oliver, for agreeing to help us.”

 

Oliver nodded in response, John continued, “Now let’s get started. The first thing we need to do is have you accept Anatoly’s offer. From there, the initiation begins. Bratva initiations can be tough, often brutal. We need to get you in shape, Mr. Queen-”

 

“Oliver. Mr. Queen was my father.” Oliver interrupted. 

 

“Oliver. We need to get you into shape, Oliver.” John continued. 

 

“ You may be fit enough as a college student but we need to train you how to fight. And keep it under wraps from the Bratva. They’ll see you as an outsider, you’ll have to be careful. They’ll be monitoring you very closely, every step of the way.” John added. 

 

“So then how do we keep in touch if they’re monitoring me?” Oliver asked. 

 

“That’s where I come in,” Felicity replied with a smile. 

 

“I’ll be monitoring your movements online, through your laptop, your phone, any electronic devices really. When we do contact you, it’ll be through secure servers to make sure the Bratva aren’t trying to listen in. When they do plan to monitor you, I can hack them and mess around with their tech so our conversations are safe.” Felicity said. 

 

“You can do all that?” Oliver asked incredulously. 

 

“I work for the NSA. I can do all that and more.” She answered with a wink. She grabbed her tablet from her purse on the ground and set it on the table. 

 

“So do you need my phone or anything to set all that up?” Oliver asked. 

 

Her eyes glued to her tablet, “Oh no, I’ve just set it up right now. By the way, you should change your phone password. Zero-Zero-Zero-Zero isn’t a very secure password.” Felicity exclaimed. 

 

Oliver’s jaw dropped at Felicity’s tech skills. She was clearly a genius and a badass one at that. 

 

“I’ll be monitoring all communications and online activity through my office at the NSA,” Felicity added. 

 

“Felicity doesn’t do much fieldwork so you won’t see much of her unless needed. But she’s got your back. That you can count on.” John said, turning to smile at his friend. 

 

“I’ll set up a cover for myself as a trainer at a gym close by and you’ll be taking private lessons from me,”  John added. 

 

“A trainer?” Oliver asked. 

 

“Well, we can’t just have you walk into the Bureau every now and then for training once you join the Bratva now, can we?”

 

John was right. Once he joined the Bratva, he couldn’t walk into the FBI Field Office regularly. They would find him out and kill him on the spot. 

 

“That’s about everything. Before we can begin all of this, you need to call Anatoly and accept his offer.” John said. 

 

“That’s all. Just call him and say ‘Yes, I’m in,’” Oliver asked. 

 

“There’s nothing else we can do right now until you call and accept,” John answered. 

 

“Okay,” Oliver said. 

 

“Call us after you call Anatoly and we’ll set up our first session. It’ll take a few days to set up my cover.” John said sitting up from his seat, ready to leave. 

 

“Oh, and Oliver, just to give you an idea of what you’re in for? That punch Felicity gave you? I’m the one who taught her.” He said and left the conference room. 

 

Oliver rubbed his jaw, still in pain from the incredible punch Felicity threw at him the night of the house party. 

 

Felicity grabbed her purse and sat up, “Good-bye, Oliver. We’ll be in touch.” 

 

And so it began, Oliver’s journey as an FBI insider infiltrating the Bratva. 

 

\----------

 

Anatoly was exploring one of the Bratva warehouses at their New York branch when his phone rang. The melodious tune of Britney Spears'  _ Toxic  _ went off and a few men around him had started to snicker at the amusing ringtone for such a high positioned mobster. Anatoly shot a glare to silence them and shouted “ _ Leave me.”   _ and answered the call. 

 

“ _ Hello. Knyazev.” _

 

“Hello, Anatoly? It’s Oliver.” 

 

Anatoly bellowed, “Ooooooliver. My favorite American. How are you, my boy?”

 

“I’m good, Anatoly. Listen, I’ve been thinking about your offer.”

 

“ _ Da _ ?”

 

“I accept. I want in, Anatoly. I want to join the Bratva.”

 

“You make me very happy man today, Oliver.”

 

“So what’s next?”

 

“I call you in few days, we meet again and talk, okay?”

 

“Sounds good to me. Bye, Anatoly.”

 

“Good-bye, Oliver Queen.” Anatoly hung up and placed the phone back in his jacket pocket. He liked the kid and was happy to hear he wanted to join them. Oliver had seemed a little lost in his life when Anatoly met him. Perhaps this would give him clarity. He hoped the boy would survive to see himself through. There was only so much he could do to help him. The brotherhood was not a pleasant world and they would not take well to outsiders. Oliver would have to prove himself on his own. 

 

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he went back outside and called the men in. The day was still young and he had work to do. After all, running the entire Bratva was no walk in the park. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is gonna be one of my favorite chapters because that's where the stuff i've been planning for this fic, the stuff that brought me this fic comes to play in here. I'm really excited for it and i hope you all are too. see you soon and drop a comment below if you would like.


	4. iv.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of NSA Analyst Felicity Smoak, her backstory and how she came to join the NSA including how she met John and Lyla and became such a fixture in their lives. And her work in the agency that now includes monitoring a billionaire frat boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very much Felicity centric and takes place in her POV. I had a lot of fun writing this up so I hope you all enjoy.

It had been a few days since Oliver had agreed to work with the FBI. After his call with Anatoly, he called John to notify him and told him their first lesson would be tomorrow afternoon. His cover had been set up at a local gym not too far from campus and Oliver “signed up” for private lessons. As for Felicity, Oliver had no idea of knowing whether she had started monitoring him yet. If she was, she really was that good considering she hadn’t contacted him about his search history yet. So he just went on with his days, trying to manage college until it was time. He had been trying to work on a paper he had due soon tonight but he couldn’t focus and it was almost three in the morning. He decided to call it quits and head to bed. After all, he had no idea what Agent Diggle had in store for him tomorrow but something told him he should rest up.

 

\----------

 

“Ugh, finally,” Felicity groaned as she saw that Oliver was finally heading to bed from her monitors. She grabbed her purse and shut off her monitor. Oliver was finally done with the day and she could head home. Everyone else at the office had already left for the night so it was just her as she strolled the halls of the NSA Boston Office. Her walk led her into the parking garage where her cherry red mini Cooper was located.  

 

It was a short drive from the office to her apartment complex. It was pretty much your standard townhouse complex, one to two bedroom homes, a full kitchen, the usual stuff, except for one important detail. Most of the complex’s residents were part of one government agency or another. The west side of the first floor, all CIA agents and they knew how to party. They were basically the jocks and frat boys of government agencies. Actually, Secret Service agents were more frat boys, but they were in Boston, not D.C. The FBI Agents were a mix of people who were well-rounded in both brains and brawns. As for the NSA, the NSA were your resident nerds. It was no ordinary feat creating defense software systems in the name of national security, nor was it easy to create an algorithm to monitor all communications within the US constantly and defines what’s questionable online behavior and what’s not to predict potential national threats.

 

She had spent four years now with the NSA, they recruited her as a 16-year-old freshman. It was no easy task, multi-managing college at a young age, taking on two degrees, and working for a government agency but she had prevailed.  After all, she was a 3-time Nevada state mathletics champion. It would’ve been 4 times but high school freshmen weren’t allowed to enter. But she had moved past that ordeal. Seeing promising talent in her, the NSA recruited her for her coding skills, having gone on to develop several state-of-the-art defense network systems and algorithms for communications monitoring. By the age of 19, she was ranked second in the National Informative Technology competition and had obtained her Master’s degree in both Cyber Security and Computer Sciences.

 

Her life didn’t leave much room for friends and family. Felicity and her mom had been estranged for a while since she decided to go to school on the other side of the country. She had called it quits with her college boyfriend Cooper Seldon after his hacktivism ways didn’t sit right with her since joining the NSA. He had seen her as a corporate sell-out, probably because she had ditched the dark black and purple locks for curly blonde tresses. The goth look wasn’t really befitting of an NSA agent, even if she was only part-time then.

 

Cooper had been one of two men who had left her, forcing Felicity to close off her heart, the first being her father. Good old Noah Kuttler had left her mother Donna Smoak behind, leaving her to solely care for their 7-year old daughter with bright eyes ready to see the world and all it had to offer for her. Her heart had slowly opened up when she met FBI Director Lyla Michaels and her husband, John Diggle.

 

After just weeks of being in the NSA, Felicity had to report one of her findings at the NSA to the FBI’s Office of Counterterrorism and open a federal investigation. That had led her to Director Michaels, a woman of a strong personality that exudes professionalism. At 16, Felicity felt intimidated by her and her being such a high authority figure but she stood tall. Lyla was immediately impressed with Felicity’s intellect and her skills, and her cute personality had certainly put a smile on the Director’s face. Her young age drew Lyla in as she had seen it before in her line of work where young bright agents often burned out under the pressures of bureaucracy and the toll it took on them.

 

Soon after their first encounter, Lyla often called Felicity down when the Bureau needed tasks done that were beyond their technological capabilities. During the time Felicity spent at their headquarters, Lyla inquired about her life, how she was doing at MIT, her course load, how her professors were. Lyla took Felicity in as if she was her little sister, even meeting her outside of the agency for coffee and lunch every now and then. They formed an unlikely but quick friendship. Lyla introduced Felicity to her husband, John Diggle. Felicity and John took to each other like long-lost siblings and the Michaels-Diggles took in Felicity as their own. Not once did she ever feel like a third wheel amongst the two and soon enough, family dinners were instituted. Lyla, Felicity, and John were there for each other throughout the last four years. They leaned on each other for support and looked to each other for comfort. When Lyla was pregnant, Felicity was there for her as much as a young adult with no knowledge of pregnancies could be there for their pregnant “older sister.” By the time little Sara Michaels-Diggle was born, Felicity had fallen in love with the little nugget and was made Godmother.

 

Although the Michaels-Diggles didn’t live in this complex, Lyla’s salary afforded her a grand house with a state-of-the-art security system designed by Felicity herself, their presence was never far. On days off, Sara was always brought over to spend time with her aunt Felicity and the complex’s amenities such as an indoor pool, jacuzzi, tennis courts and etc gave the group many activities.  

 

And that was how Felicity stopped being surprised when she came into her apartment and found a casserole in her fridge, one she definitely did not cook, seeing how she could easily burn water. Attached to the casserole pan was a note from Lyla, _Eat up and I’ll see you this Sunday for brunch. Sara misses her Aunt City. Love, Director Michaels._ An inside joke between the two of them since early on in their friendship, Lyla had forgone all formalities but Felicity hadn’t quite stopped calling her by just her name and not her title. It took some getting used to for her.

 

As Felicity reheated the casserole, she did a little tidying up around her apartment, organizing the Wired magazines on her coffee table, a long forgotten takeout container, and the occasional heels thrown around the living room. The job kept her busy but she wouldn’t have it any other way. Her programs were being put to good use and she felt accomplished in that. And she had found a family in the Michaels-Diggles and she was extremely grateful for that.

 

After finishing off a piece of casserole, Felicity went off to bed for a couple hours. The next morning, she begrudgingly woke up. Her coffee maker was set on an automatic alarm so immediately after freshening up, she rushed to the kitchen for a sip of her liquid nectar. She had some time before going in, so she grabbed her tablet and sat at her dining table and opened up her programs. Her eyes quickly scanned lines and lines of code, making sure everything was in order.

 

After checking her programs, she opened up surveillance on Oliver. He was still sound asleep, meaning Felicity had time this morning to get some other work done at the agency. Oliver Queen, her life had now come to watching billionaire frat boy. She wasn’t all too pleased when John had suggested recruiting him as their insider to the Bratva, but she understood John’s reasonings. She knew how important this assignment was to her and she was gonna support her partner. After a few more minutes of mindless browsing, Felicity finished off her coffee and dressed for work. It was Friday so she could be a bit more lenient with the dress code so she opted for a black polka dot crop top with a matching A-line skirt, a cashmere grey coat if the wind picked up and black pumps. She finished off her look with a soft pink lip color and styled her hair into her signature ponytail. She was ready for the workday.  

 

The traffic wasn’t too bad so she made it to the Boston Office as expected. After passing the security check, she set course for her office. She shared her office floor with two other NSA Analysts, Cisco Ramon and Zari Tomaz. Analyst Ramon had been here longer than Felicity. His expertise was mainly mechanical engineering which was why he was often consultant or an independent contractor on multiple government projects. His tech skills were good but not as great as hers. And then there was Zari, the newest addition to office floor 1-03. Her hacking skills were phenomenal, even on par with Felicity’s skills, one could say. Her joining the NSA was part of her deal with the agency, she worked for them and in exchange, their resources would be allocated to help her find her brother Behrad. She was a bit aloof at times, but her and Cisco knew she was a softie on the inside.

 

She closed the door behind her and headed for her office space, greeting the two on the way. “Hey Cisco, hey Zari.”

 

“Hey Felicity,” they both responded.

 

“Got any plans for the weekend?” she asked.

 

“A couple of friends and I are getting together Saturday night for a trivia game down at Jitters. We could use someone like you on our team, Smoak.” Cisco exclaimed.

 

“I might take you up on that offer. What about you, Zari?”

 

“Mario Cart marathon this weekend,” she replied.

 

Felicity nodded in acknowledgment and sat at her desk, setting her coat on the back of the chair and her purse off to the side. She had three monitors, one with the audio and video surveillance on Oliver who was still asleep,  her algorithm open to detect potential national security threats, and the NSA’s intranet advice column, Ask Zelda to see what the weekly gossip mill was about. Those _Ask Zelda_ stories were always amusing, Felicity hadn’t sent one in herself yet but they were always so interesting to read and to decipher who in the agency was writing to the mysterious lady.

 

Hours passed as Felicity assessed potential threats and documented them into a report for her supervisor. Her reports were quite thorough, maybe a little too thorough for her supervisor, Ms. Christopher’s liking. But Felicity knew better now to be as thorough as she could be in her reports. Her job wasn’t just observing high school hackers trying to change their English grade, but also more serious things such as a heartbroken student searching how to purchase an assault rifle or a young man watching videos deciding to follow in the footsteps of a known psychopath. The world was often a dangerous place and every day, people made choices, choices that affected them for the rest of their lives, even if they didn’t know it. The smallest detail in people’s online activity created a profile of who they were and it was Felicity’s job to find the suspicious ones.

 

She hit send on the email with a flourish of her fingers and leaned back in her chair. It was early in the workday and she had already felt so accomplished. She changed positions to face the _Ask Zelda_ column to pass time until Oliver woke up for the day. What made the column so entertaining was that everyone’s identities remained anonymous so names from popular culture were used instead.

 

This week’s story detailed an interoffice romance between an Agent “Peralta” and an Agent “Santiago.” Felicity chuckled at the codenames. It seems that last week the two were in disagreement about whose apartment to move into. Interoffice romances weren’t frowned upon within the NSA, but there were strict rules with the Human Resources division. The two agents were requesting Zelda’s help on how to break the tie. Felicity’s eyes were skimming through Zelda’s response when an _ping_ went off, an alarm she had set to signify a change in Oliver’s online activity.

 

She turned to the other monitor and opened up the mirror software allowing her to see Oliver’s laptop through her monitor It was mid-afternoon so she knew from his schedule, which she hacked to see, that he had gotten out of his class and was currently researching a paper. Or so it would seem as she saw an incognito window being opened. She scoffed at his actions. Just because someone opens an incognito tab doesn’t mean their history couldn’t be seen. She saw the website being typed in and groaned, dropping her head onto her desk.

 

“Ugh, why me?” She moaned. Oliver had opened up a porn site was clearly taking some time for himself…..with himself….. The audio had been muted for now and she sure wasn’t planning on plugging in her headphones anytime soon. This was her life now, monitoring a frat boy and hearing him jerk off on a Friday afternoon.

 

How did she end up here? She was a MENSA member for fuck’s sake. She developed softwares and programs for national defense. She shook her head and muttered to herself a mantra, “You’re doing this for John. For John. Your friend. Your brother.”

 

There was no way Felicity was gonna endure this on a regular basis. Minutes had passed and Oliver had clearly finished his “extracurricular activities” and she opened up one of her programs, a secure messaging app. The messages would be on a secure server of her own, ensuring that the Bratva would not see any communications between them and discover Oliver’s true intentions with the Bratva.

 

**Felicity: Maybe a little warning next time when you want some time to yourself?**

 

**Felicity: It’s Felicity, btw. Felicity Smoak. As in the NSA agent watching you.**

 

**Oliver: Oh shit.**

 

**Oliver: Sorry about that.**

 

**Oliver: Wait, how are you messaging me right now?**

 

**Felicity: It’s a special secure messaging app, a creation of my own.**

 

**Oliver: Whoa, you made this app? That’s fucking cool.**

 

**Felicity: Thank you. :)**

 

**Oliver: Wait, won’t the Bratva see this?**

 

**Felicity: No, it’s safe. So we can talk through here whenever.**

 

**Felicity: Now, back to the matter at hand. Let’s institute a 5 minute advance warning beforehand so you can do what you need to do and I can go look the other way and listen to my podcast for a while while “that” happens. Deal?”**

 

**Oliver: Deal**

 

**Oliver: Again, I’m real sorry about that.**

 

**Felicity: No worries. We just forget it happened and move on.**

 

**Oliver: You didn’t hear or see me, did you?**

 

**Felicity: I thought I said we were moving on.**

 

**Oliver: You’re right.**

 

**Felicity: Don’t forget your first lesson with John tomorrow. 1 pm. Have a good weekend.**

 

**Oliver: Thank you, Felicity.**

 

Felicity closed the app and sighed. She really needed a drink tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this far and leave a comment if you so desire.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, please let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading. You can find me on tumblr and twitter for updates on the fic and everything or to just spiral over this and what's to come.


End file.
